


Saying Things

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 3-shot, Dron, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Post-War Healing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-01-26 21:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12566368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Inspired by this prompt: "Quit saying things that make me want to kiss you."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SandraSempra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandraSempra/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Hello! I'm still testing the waters here on A03 so posting this Dron 3-shot to see how it goes over.

The meetings were supposed to be helping them.

At least that's what old McGonagall kept saying every time he threatened to not come back, which admittingly happened after nearly every session. Still, he came back, grumbling under his breath but taking the same chair in the same place around the circle with the other handful of Year 8 Gryffindor and Slytherin students working through their issues together.

Draco Malfoy refused to call them what the flyers around the school did- suggested group therapy. Besides it being an obviously Muggle term, calling the meetings anything more than that would only add to the shame he was already carrying. There had to be therapy because there had been a battle, at his school, with him on the wrong side for most of it.

That none of the students had quit yet was a shock to him, but he assumed the Headmistress had a lot to do with the attendance.A year ago, many of those now gathered hated each other and he was pretty sure more a couple of them still harbored anger towards him if the glares that followed him when he took his seat were any indication.

He had tried to leave, damn near begging McGonagall to at least let him into the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff group where he sure cooler heads prevailed. Of course, she didn't listen to his complaints, only offered him a biscuit before leading him back into the classroom where everyone else was waiting.

"Mr. Malfoy?" He looked up startled to see the Headmistress looking down at him with one eyebrow raised. "Did you hear me? The group is splitting into partners for this next exercise."

"Partners?"

"Yes,  _partners_. As I was saying, it now it looks like Mr. Weasley is without someone to work with," she said crossly.

Ron Weasley looked back at him with wide eyes before he started scooting his chair closer to where Dean Thomas and Pansy Parkinson were sitting together. McGonagall turned to chastise the now sputtering ginger before brandishing her wand to scoot his own chair across to where Ron sat.

"Ah, that's better. Now, turn to your partners. Your  _exercise_  partner, Mr. Finnigan, I'm sure Mr. Thomas will do just fine without you. Attached under your chairs you will find a series of questions. For the first round, the Gryffindors will be asking the questions and listening  _with intention_  to the answers. I will be monitoring and available for anyone who needs it. You may begin," she paused to turn an hourglass on the desk beside her. " _Now_."

At first, neither Ron nor he said anything, both looking down in their own laps. He was sure Weasley hated him most of all and as much as Draco did want to move past a lot of what happened during the war, he wasn't sure if this was the right place to start. The group was five sessions in and through that time, neither of them had spoken much more than they were forced to by the Headmistress. They hadn't said a word to each other since the start of the term.

Draco heard the sounds of parchment opening and snuck a look up to see Ron frowning at the page.

"Problem?" he asked.

That earned him another heated glare. Draco suppressed a sigh and slipped his hands under his legs as his gaze went back down to examine the floor.

"Alright. Let's get this over with, eh. Question one- er- well that's not a question, really but er-," Ron's knees were bouncing as he spoke. Draco kept his focus on them to avoid looking up again. "Number one- Tell me of a time you have felt unwanted."

Draco felt his back stiffen at the bluntness of the question. So far in the group, they had skirted around most issues, focusing more on the present concerns as Year 8 students and except for the time Lavender Brown had broken down talking about her lycanthropy, discussions had remained relatively on the surface.

He swallowed hard, deciding in that moment to just give in to the honesty expected of him and met Ron's hard stare again. "A time I felt unwanted? It would be easier to list the times I've felt wanted. It would certainly take less time."

McGonagall chose that moment to walk back where Draco and Ron sat staring awkwardly at each other, her hand reaching out to grasp the other wizard's shoulder. She knelt down to whisper something in his ear, which Ron quickly repeated, and walked back to another section of the room.

"When was the  _last_  time you felt unwanted?"

A hot, prickling sensation hit the back of his neck. Draco pushed his chin forward, gathering the courage to say the thing he'd been trying to convey for a while now when asking to leave the group meetings. "I feel unwanted in every room I walk into. This one most especially. I deserve that, I suppose… for what I did. Still doesn't feel nice."

To his credit, Ron blinked but said nothing more. After a moment, he looked down at the parchment and asked the next question. "Er- number two: What has been the most challenging part of being back at Hogwarts?"

Draco thought about lying. He thought about slipping into his old smirk and making a comment about never being challenged enough. He thought better of it.

With his hands pressing more firmly against the chair as leaned more of his weight on them, he said softly, "It should look different than it does. I keep seeing corridors and alcoves I know I fought in ...and they made them look just like before. Slughorn even has me re-taking Astronomy. I'll probably fail it because I can't go up there for observations at night." He took a deep breath before continuing, the look in Ron's eyes softer than he'd seen before. "No one should have to be up there."

A new type of silence stretched on between them. Draco could hear sniffles and shaking voices in the room around him but he couldn't make his head turn to see which of his classmates were making the sounds.

Ron fumbled the parchment sheet in his left hand again, his free hand reaching up to rub the side of his nose. He seemed more hesitant to ask the next question. After another minute of his twitching reluctance, so Draco pulled one hand from where it had been tucked and leaned forward to gently take the sheet away.

There on the page was written:  _What regrets do you think about the most?_

"I don't want to answer that."

Ron nodded. "I didn't want to ask it."

A chime sounded to indicate time to switch asker and listener but they stayed quiet. This time without anger or unwillingness but with an unspoken agreement to simply sit together. Draco watched as Ron continued to rub the side of his nose every few minutes. The third time he went to repeat the nervous gesture, Draco almost darted his own hand out to stop him, but thankfully he hesitated and the Gryffindor didn't seem to notice.

At last, he spoke, leaning forward again to catch Ron's attention. "I think what you did was brave, you know. You saved us...right along with Potter and Granger."

Ron shrugged and then nodded, his light eyes watering a bit, a detail Draco might not have noticed if they hadn't spent the past several minutes staring at each other.

"You did good, too, Malfoy. We could- I should- treat you better for it." Ron fumbled with the edges of his sleeve for a moment, looking up with a grim expression after a while. "I've just needed someone to be angry at. 'Suppose I was used to that being you."

A wry smile twisted Draco's lips. "Yeah, we had a good thing going over the years. As far as school rivalries are concerned."

Ron twisted his head to one side, he followed where he was looking. Professor McGonagall was standing back at the desk as she scanned over the small groups. "She wants us all to be friends now."

"Bugger her," he joked.

A scoff that almost could have been a chuckle sounded from Ron. He didn't say anything else but Draco could feel the tension lessening between them, if only a fraction.

An idea struck him, one he was sure would be turned down but he felt compelled to try it anyway. After cleared his throat, Draco shifted position, sliding down in the chair in a more stance that made him almost feel like his old self. Carefully he folded the page shut and then again until it made a neat square shape. "You think if we asked the Headmistress together she'd let us out of here early?"

Ron gave him a confused look, his eyebrows drawing together. "And do what?"

"I haven't beaten you at the pitch in a while. How about some keeper practice rounds? Loser buys the winner a round at the next Hogsmeade weekend."

The way Ron lit up at his suggestion made the entire uncomfortable session of forced conversion worth it. "You're going down, Malfoy!"

His hand shot into the air, waving their Headmistress over with renewed enthusiasm while Draco stuck the parchment sheet back under his own seat and grinned.  _Maybe group therapy isn't so bad after all._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the positive reaction! There is a lovely community in this pairing...much appreciated!

Any and all positive thoughts Draco might have had about the eighth year student meetings came to an end so suddenly it left his head reeling and for once, he felt the ending of something he enjoyed was not his fault at all. Headmistress McGonagall with her stern looks and dark tartan robes was  _entirely_  to blame.

The trouble with starting to like something was it left a person more vulnerable when it all ended. A lesson Draco learned yet again when he walked almost,  _almost_ , cheerfully into the usual classroom, expecting to see a certain Gryffindor sitting there only to see Terry Boot in his seat instead. Terry  _Bloody_  Boot from House Ravenclaw with his dark hair and downturned mouth was certainly not the wizard he'd been wanting to see.  _Not. At. All._

Draco protested instantly, turning on his heel to glare daringly at Professor McGonagall. She raised one graying eyebrow at him, the look in her eyes reminding him too much of how she'd been on the battlefield. Determined and ready to get her way. It was enough to make him recoil but then as another Ravenclaw came through the door, he felt emboldened. Suddenly, the risk of pissing off his clearly powerful Headmistress seemed worth it.

" _Professor,_ " he placed weight on the word, drawing it out longer than necessary. The change in his voice was one of the most useful things he had learned from his father but it was the way he drew himself up, stretching his neck higher and pulling back his shoulders that came right from his mother's bag of tricks.

" _This_  is not our usual group." His statement was obvious but Draco couldn't trust himself to name who he was really looking for as his eyes still scanned the room for a freckled, familiar face.

"Need I remind you, Mr. Malfoy,  _I_  am the facilitator for these groups? Hm, thought not." The thickening of her accent was the first of many warning signs that he should quit while he was ahead. Draco folded his arms and continued to look petulantly back at her.

McGonagall continued,"The announcement of group changes happened during our last meeting. The time to disagree would have been then. They stay," she had nodded in the direction of the stoic looking students with eagles embroidered on their robes, "and so will you. Trust that I know what I'm doing, Mr. Malfoy, and take a seat.."

Frustrated and already cranky, Draco reluctantly sat beside Pansy who was studying her long, painted nails with her legs stretched out and crossed, a sign he knew meant she was trying hard to establish an attitude of not caring. Which might have worked if he hadn't noticed the softening of her glares and even occasional honest smiles returning over the sessions.

"Can you believe this? She stuck us with the  _Ravenclaws_ ," he stage-whispered to Pansy, giving Terry Boot a withering look until he moved over another chair.

His friend raised a dark eyebrow and half-snarled at Padma Patil who had been approaching the now empty chair beside him hesitantly until she backed away again. "Better than the 'Puffs I suppose…  _barely._ "

The session began shortly after but Draco had decided to not pay a second of attention, a childish but effective protest as his mind wandered while the practiced look on his face screamed of boredom.

If the Headmistress truly had given prior notice, it must have been when she started talking at the end of the last meeting. One of many Draco hadn't paid attention to especially since he remembered clearly it was the end of the last session when a rebellious tuff of red hair near Ron's right ear chose that moment to pull away from where the rest of his hair laid flat. The urge to smooth it down had confused him, making Draco speed off down the corridor the instant they were released to put as much distance between him and Weasley as possible.

Draco had been that way for a few weeks now-  _distracted_  and while it made him question his grip on reality sometimes, he couldn't help but like the way it had shifted things.

Since they had started being paired during the sessions, all seemed to have been relatively peaceful. At least where school was concerned. Knowing he had practice at the end of the day to look forward to, or more specifically beating Weasley in drills, had kept Draco more motivated than he had in a long time. Autumn was in full swing around the castle, the change of another season helping to put more space between was had happened and the possibility of a somewhat brighter future ahead.

He was more observant of the here and now lately, a trait Draco was certain he was picking up from all of the Gryffindors his days seemed to be filled with. The Slytherin Common Room was still a place of either discussing the past or avoiding all conversation for fear of it coming up which was in sharp contrast to when the Gryffindor students gathered, their games and animated conversations having little to nothing to do with anything but the present moment.

Early on in their paired sessions, and through the increasing time spent together outside of classes, Draco had realized this was most true for Ron. The other wizard's focus was usually centered around the dread of today's assignments or the excitement for a match coming up at the end of the week. Anything deeper to talk about was left to the monitored meetings and only there. The nearly sacred space of the privacy protected classroom was the only place where Ron would let the scars on his arms be seen and fears in his mind be heard. Getting to be privy to that had become somewhat of an ambrosia to Draco, the unspoken agreements between the two of them making such conversations easier to start. He knew Ron was saying things to him that his two best friends, both who had turned down the offer to return to Hogwarts, hadn't heard before.

He was quickly starting to feel the same, sharing more sensitive memories and concerns in the privacy of their conversations than he had with any of his other friends. Ron would listen, truly listen in a way that was unusual to Draco. Most people heard him with their mouths already half open to reply but Ron would sit quietly, his hands resting on the tops of knees with one red brow furrowed lower than the other and his blue eyes never leaving Draco's face.

Even outside of sessions, he'd noted how Ron really, truly listened to people. Sure he might make one too many jokes but when it came for someone to speak about a subject with meaning, Ron was there. At full attention. It made him want to be around the wizard even more, even if he couldn't quite admit as to why.

With a Hogsmeade weekend coming and a promised pint from the Gryffindor who was, of course, two points behind in their ongoing scoring of practice drills, Draco had been looking forward to his  _almost_  friend's keen ear. There was a little speech he'd been practicing secretly, a semi-rambling paragraph of words to try if he could say something of importance to Ron Weasley.

In reality, Draco knew he could simply adjust his plans and remind the other wizard of their upcoming outing at the pitch that evening. It was just the changing of what he expected that left him feeling like the rug had been pulled out from under him. Well, that and possibility of weeks spent paired with some mopey-eyed Ravenclaw.

It was after that particularly snarky thought that Draco noticed the Headmistress smirking in his direction and a blushing Anthony Goldstein headed in his direction, chair in tow.  _Oh, Merlin's crusted toe!_


End file.
